


Smile Again

by PrintDust



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:25:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrintDust/pseuds/PrintDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He can't remember the last time he saw her smile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile Again

He can't remember the last time he saw her smile. Perhaps when she had found them on the road after everything had gone down on the farm. Time had stretched out long and thin between then and now, marked by exhaustion, hunger, and cold.

Sure she offered comforting smiles to Beth as she embraced the young woman, and laughed at crisp attempts at humour. But he knew that the upturned corners of her mouth that never reached her eyes were out of a sense of duty. Lori had worn her duty to create normalcy in this world of improvisational living like an iron vest. She cleaned their shirts in the icy waters of whatever steam they came across and stacked their folded blankets neatly in the back of the truck each day after they broke camp.

He knew she was growing weary, but he also knew that the tasks kept her occupied as she fretted internally about their food supply, Carl - himself.

Sitting now on the other side of the fire, he watched her down-turned face and she watched the flames as they fought to consume a damp log. Their belly's all cramped with hunger; a single can of beans was not enough to feed them all.

She'd grown thin, her cheekbones hollowed out, the shadows deep on her pale face. Her eyes were dark coals reflecting the glow of the flames. She shifted slowly, wincing, and laid down, curled up beneath an insufficient pink knitted blanket. But she never complained. Not about the back aches that he knew niggled at her since she'd started to show. Not about the hunger. Or the exhaustion. Or the never ending cleaning and washing regiments. Not about Carl's indifference. Or his own impatience and angry words.

She simply ploughed onwards.

But he knew even then that this wouldn't last forever. It couldn't. His hands ached to press against her belly and feel the baby tumble and kick. His arms longed to slide around her and warm her. He wanted to make her smile again.

And he would, one day, he knew.

Just not today.


End file.
